Murder Deja Vu

off heads. He conjured up a lethal smile. “I’m going into my brother’s office. Don’t. Call. Him.”
    Her head bobbled, and she mumbled words Reece couldn’t understand but took to mean she wouldn’t. As he walked toward Carl’s office, he heard her make a dash for freedom. Ironic that given his situation, he was probably more frightened. He stood in front of the office door for a moment, inhaled a shallow breath to prevent expanding his diaphragm. He remembered the last time he stood in this spot. A different pain filled his chest then. The pain of betrayal.
    He counted to three, psyching his courage, then turned the knob. The door swung open as if it were in slow motion. He’d always thought those dragged-out scenes in movies were contrived, but now he knew they weren’t. They mimicked real life. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and turned the latch. A sense of déjà vu came over him when he saw his brother sitting behind the desk.
    Carl raised his head. For a split second, he didn’t seem to recognize Reece. Then his face drained of color. Wasting no time, he sprang to his feet and wrenched at the upper right desk drawer.
    “The gun’s not there, Carl. It’s evidence, remember? You shot me with it.” In an anxious moment, Reece feared Carl may have replaced the gun with another, but he knew he hadn’t. It was Carl who’d forgotten. He rifled through the drawer, finally yanking it out and throwing it onto the floor. He gave up with a panicked grunt. “You’re supposed to be in custody. That’s what I heard.”
    “As you can see, I’m not.” Carl’s suit jacket hung on the back of his chair, and perspiration bled through the underarms of his shirt in large dark spots. Reece watched the fear in Carl’s eyes. “I never realized you sweat so much. You’re out of shape. Too much booze, not enough exercise.”
    “It…it was an accident, Reece. The gun went off accidentally. I didn’t mean to shoot you.”
    “Sure you did.” Reece stepped closer. “Exactly like you meant to set me up for two murders. Or was that accidental too?”
    Carl slid further away along the wall and cast a suspicious bead on Reece. “I suppose you’re recording this again. Are you?”
    Reece shook his head. “No, you can check.” He spread his arms, then unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his bandaged chest. “See, no wire. What would be the point?” He opened his shirt wider, exposing part of the scar cutting a deep path down his side. Carl gasped. “The scar from your bullet is right next to this one. See? A prisoner almost ripped me apart with a shiv. That should be your scar, Carl. You should have been the one fucked in the ass, not me.”
    “I’m sorry for what you went through. Really. I am. But I couldn’t help it. I went crazy. Karen made a fool of me. She needed to die. I couldn’t let her ruin my life with Marcy. Surely you can understand that.”
    Reece laughed. “You’re kidding, right? You think I should understand that I spent fifteen years in prison so you wouldn’t mess up your life with Marcy while you taught Karen a lesson at the same time?” Carl didn’t answer. “Do you?” Reece couldn’t believe the hate-filled power of his voice.
    Carl jumped back against the wall. “No, no. Of course not.” He brushed his sleeve across his top lip. “No.”
    Reece reached into his pants pocket and held up the mangled recorder, turning it around in his hand. “I had it all down. Everything you said before you shot me. How you murdered Karen and the woman in North Carolina. How you made it look like I committed both murders. Unfortunately for me, no one’s going to hear it, but this little piece of twisted metal saved my life.”
    Carl lunged for the desk, jerked open the middle drawer, and rummaged through it. Desperation contorted his now florid face.
    “Looking for a weapon?” Reece asked. “A letter opener would do. You have one of those, don’t you? Or are you hoping to find something like this?”
    When Carl turned and saw the small gun in Reece’s hand, he froze. He started to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. He finally managed, “Don’t, Reece. Don’t do it.”
    Reece faced his demon, and an eerie calm settled over him. His hands stopped shaking. “Why not?” He walked around the desk and pushed Carl into his seat, wincing as the action tugged at his wound. His free hand pressed against it, and he felt the sticky residue on his fingers. Carl